Lullaby
by BeLIEve-xFOBx
Summary: The story of how Pete and Patrick fall in love. Peterick SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

-Patrick Stump-

"Well, you can't spend the rest of your life working at a bookstore, Patrick," my best friend Mikala said as I rung up a customer. It was the first book in the Anita Blake series by Laurell K. Hamilton.

"A nice choice," I said to the shopper, a strikingly attractive girl with green eyes and a pretty smile.

"I just picked it up at random, is it any good?" She asked. I nodded.

"I think it's pretty amazing," I replied, grinning.

"I'm Lexi, by the way," she told me. I pointed to my name tag stupidly.

"I'm Patrick." _Yeah, obviously, _I thought._ You idiot, she's totally flirting with you_. _Be cool._

"Well, maybe I'll see you around, Patrick," Lexi said, smiling. She thanked me and I nodded casually. She giggled and walked away with her purchase. I resisted the urge to face-palm myself. _Why can't I be cooler?_ I thought, sighing. There was no one else in line, so I turned to Mikala. I was planning on answering her, even though we'd had the same conversation at least seven times this week and it was only Tuesday, but I stopped, unable to think for a moment. Her usually crazy, blonde curly hair was straight today, and died black. I'd been getting a slight shock every time I looked at her all day. She cocked her head to the side, waiting for me to say something. I just shook my head.

"Patrick, I'm serious. You have talent. You can't work here forever," she said.

"I know, Mikala. Neither can you," I told her. She just smiled. I noticed a customer approaching the counter, so I turned my attention back to the register. A small lined had formed while Mikala and I had been talking.

"You know, Mikala," I said between ringing up customers, "you could help me here." I glanced over at her. She had put up the little sign in front of her space that said, 'Next register, please' and was filing her nails. She looked up at me like I'd offended her. "It does happen to be your job, you know. But don't let me interrupt you or anything," I said, laughing. She rolled her eyes and sighed over-dramatically, but removed the sign from in front of her register and waved a customer from the middle of my line over to her side. When the lines died down, Mikala turned to me again.

"Pat, you told me you were going to start going to band auditions. You went to two, and both bands gave the job to someone before you even got a chance to audition. Those were both last month. Tell me you haven't given up!" She seemed to genuinely care about the situation, so I gave her an honest answer.

"I don't know if I've given up or not, but I haven't seen any flyers or anything for band auditions that have, you know, caught my eye," I answered. Well… That was almost an honest answer. Truth was, I really didn't like singing in front of anyone except Mikala, and that was only because she forced me to. All the advertised auditions I saw were for singers, so it was obvious that none of those caught my eye. I was an okay drummer, and I was okay with a guitar, so I was hoping to find something more along those lines.

As usual, Mikala saw right through me.

"Can you really not understand how talented you are?" She asked quietly, looking me in the eyes. I had one of those moments I have every once in a while, a flash of a second when I wonder why I've never asked Mikala out. We were constantly together, and had been best friends for years. It would be as easy as breathing. _Maybe I actually have a chance with her…_

"Hey, dirtbag!" She yelled suddenly, glaring over at a large, bald man who just walked into the store. "You're tracking mud in here, go back out and wipe your freaking feet!" The man's eyes widened, and he quickly backtracked out of the store. And just like that, the moment was gone. I couldn't handle her wildness in anything more than the dysfunctional friendship we already had.

"Fucking people, I have to mop up after hours tonight," she muttered, shaking her head. "Anyway, what was I saying?" She asked, looking back at me. I just shook my head.

"I don't know, but it probably wasn't important," I replied. _It definitely wasn't important. I'm not that talented and I'm not auditioning as a singer, _I thought to myself. "Anyway, I don't think I told you yet—I like your hair," I told her. She smiled, our previous conversation forgotten.

"Thanks!" She said, flipping her hair back flirtatiously, and then winking at me. We both burst into laughter. We were still giggling when a man in front of the counter impolitely cleared his throat. I turned towards him, and he waved a book in my face.

"Rude much?" Mikala asked, annoyed. He just waved his hand at her—a signal for her to shut up. He pointed to himself, showing us that he had a cell phone wedged between his head and his shoulder as he was taking money out of his wallet. I looked down at the book he was purchasing. It was a business self-help book.

"I'm in a hurry," he mouthed to me. Mikala rolled her eyes; I just nodded and rang him up.

"People are so ignorant these days," Mikala said loudly. I stifled a laugh. The man looked angry as he walked away.

"You're gonna get yourself fired, you know that, right?" I asked her when he was gone. She shot a huge smile at me.

"You'll be famous soon anyway, Pat, and once you're gone, I'm gonna have to find a new job anyway. There won't be anyone here to stop me from punching the customers' faces in." I rolled my eyes, but laughed. The part about her punching people, that much was true. But me, famous? _Yeah,_ _right. _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

-Pete Wentz-

in the movie of my life...

starring you instead of me...

when the moonlight...

hits your bright eyes I go blind...

maybe next time I'll remember...

how to write a freaking decent song...

_Why am I sucking so bad today?_ I asked myself. I could usually write brilliant songs in no time at all, but now I couldn't write _anything. _It'd been like that all week. Joe and I were starting a new band, and we wanted to take this one seriously. I would play bass, Joe would play the guitar. I could scream, but I couldn't really sing. At least, not exceptionally well—which is what we needed. So, we were holding auditions for a singer, and a drummer, which we also needed. We'd had a couple of auditions already, but no one had really stood out yet.

"Hey, Pete," Joe said as he walked through the door of the small studio we were renting to hold auditions in, and eventually practices—once we had a band.

"Hey, Joe," I said from the couch I was sitting on. The studio consisted of our drum set, Joe's guitar, my bass, a microphone stand, and a couch that was already in the studio when we first got here. It was otherwise empty. "What time is our first audition today?" I asked. Joe shrugged, taking a seat next to me with his guitar.

"Two guys called me yesterday, but I don't know if the first one is coming. He should be here by now. The other should be here in half an hour," he told me. I sighed. _This is going to be a long week, _I thought.

The first guy never showed, but the second one was right on time. He was tall and thin, not an ounce of muscle on his body. He was wearing a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, pleated slacks, a hint of checkered socks showing at his ankles whenever he walked.

"Hello, I'm Jeremy," he introduced himself. "I'm trying out to be your drummer." I almost laughed. He was the exact opposite of what we were looking for—Joe in his usual attire of a tee-shirt and jeans, his Jew-fro looking just a little crazier than normal, and me in my skinny jeans and hoodie, black eyeliner smudged around my eyes. _How are we gonna get a decent punk sound outta this kid?_ I thought.

It turned out worse than I'd anticipated. He couldn't keep a beat to save his life, and he thrashed around like he was having a seizure. I really don't think he'd ever touched a drum set in his life. When he finally stopped, his hair disheveled and his breathing heavy, I just stared at him. Joe thanked him and told him we'd call him if he got the job. Yeah… We wouldn't be calling him. Ever. My disgust and disappointment must have shown on my face after the kid left because Joe put his hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry, man. We'll find our guys," he said.

"I hope so," I replied. "I really hope so."


End file.
